" Glad to make peace on any terms, Mr. Gentlemen of the Mint," added he, pointing with his truncheon towards Mrs. She donned her gloves. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. “You are the type that I want to marry someday, you’ve got a beautiful body, such pretty eyes. "It's not an offer," continued he, "that I'm likely to make, or you're likely to receive every day in the year. ” He stood before the door. There was scant social life on the Sha-mien aside from masculine foregatherings, little that interested him.
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